The Dead Flag Blues
by seatbeltdrivein
Summary: It's the end of the world. Manga AU, RoyEd.


_Written for crowfics, beta'd by bob_fish and a_big_apple. Lyrics and title belong to Godspeed You! Black Emperor._

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We're trapped in the belly of this horrible machine  
And the machine is bleeding to death  
The sun has fallen down  
And the billboards are all leering  
And the flags are all dead at the top of their poles  
It went like this:

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The car was well and truly banged up, but it still ran. A bit of fiddling with the wires, a few claps, and Ed had it going. He climbed into the passenger seat and let Roy take the wheel, casting a wary glance out the window before pulling off into the road – what was left of it.

There was an amount of maneuvering necessary. The chunks of asphalt, like giant crumbling boulders, sat haphazardly on the road. Roy steered around them, the car complaining at the sharp, sudden movements, but it didn't give out on them like the last one had.

When Roy pointed out, half a mile outside of the town, that the car had nearly half a tank of gas, Ed felt close to crying. Half a tank. _Half a fucking tank_. They could get somewhere safe on that.

As the sky darkened and the sun's teasing, deceptive light faded into the horizon, they drove on, the asphalt becoming dirt beneath the wheels.

By the time the engine shuddered, sucking dry the last of the gasoline, they were nearing the border to North. Ed could tell by the way nature seemed to shrink back, receding into hard frozen earth, the trees all blending until only pine was visible. Cold, dry, the air would sting at their skin the moment they got out.

It wouldn't be a comfortable night.

"We can't go any farther." Roy looked sideways at him. "I'm going to try and pull out of sight."

Ed drummed his fingers against the armrest. "You think someone's around?"

"I never can tell," Roy said honestly, and steered straight through a gap in the trees. They didn't get as out of sight as they might have liked. The end of the car poked out, still visible on the road, when the engine finally cut. Roy thumped his fist against the steering wheel. "Shit."

"I'll push," Ed suggested. "Come on, we gotta do it. Just keep the wheel steady." He held his right arm out of view.

Roy looked tired. "No, I will. Get behind the wheel." He stepped out of the car before Ed could argue, a biting wind whipping in through the open door. Ed crawled behind the steering wheel, holding it steady, one hand on the opened door as he leaned out to keep an eye on Roy.

"Ready?" he called out, keeping his voice low.

"Ready," Roy said. The car groaned at the first push. Ed held his foot down on the gas pedal as hard as he could, feeling the car give way just slightly, rolling forward.

"Keep going," he called back to Roy.

Another shudder, another shake, the earth giving beneath them. The car rolled forward in a final lurch, and Ed twisted the wheel sharply to the left, spinning them out of view. When the car came to a halt, he could hear Roy panting. Stepping outside, the first thing he saw was his breath, like smoke, spilling into the air.

"You shouldn't get out," Roy said.

"It doesn't matter much at this point, does it?" Ed asked.

Roy got a pained look around his eyes, his mouth twisting into an odd, grimacing curve – a familiar expression. He walked closer, got his arms around Ed, and backed him against the car, burying his face in Ed's hair, breathing deep.

Slowly, surely, Ed wrapped his arms around Roy's body. They were clinging to each other, Ed noticed. Like that would somehow stop the world from shattering into a million tiny pieces, like the sun would rise for this, what they had.

If that was all it took—

Ed shook his head fiercely, pushing his face into Roy's neck.

"I'm starving," Roy said. Ed felt the words vibrate against his skull.

"Think there's anything around?" When he pulled away, letting distance in between their chests, Roy looked down at him, shrugging.

"Time to find out." 

* * *

They weren't quite yet at the border, Roy told him. North was still a good distance away. The stars, the only map left, were very reliable.

They'd chanced a fire, but only for the sake of a hot meal. Ed had gotten lucky – a rabbit. A family of them, one mother and three babies. He'd skinned them while Roy transmuted a few sticks into skewers, setting the meat to roast.

"Do you really think it'll do us any good?" Ed asked, gaze held to the fire by the promise of a full meal. "Going North."

"There's no telling," Roy poked at the flames, edging them higher. "Drachma let a few refugees in. That was one of the last reports before the breakdown."

Ed's stomach sank. "It's been a while since then."

"Two months," Roy agreed. "Hopefully, Drachma will still be standing."

"I think they'll just kill us," Ed muttered.

"Maybe. Does it matter?"

And no, Ed supposed. It really didn't. Not anymore. But he _wanted_ it to, wanted it with a desperation that frightened him in its intensity. The piece of him that was still young and clinging stubbornly to hope wanted to think that life could continue.

"Food's ready," Roy said at last. He handed Ed two skewers. "Eat up."

They ate like animals, tearing into the meat with more enthusiasm than they'd expressed in weeks. The food they'd found in stores, in houses, had been old, dry, on the verge of spoiling if not already there. It couldn't compare to cooked, fresh food. The taste was bland, but Ed couldn't remember a better meal.

It made him think of his brother, of the island they trained on together. It made him think of Teacher. It just made him _think_.

Beside him, Roy ate quietly.

As the night carried on, the wind picked up. Ed's entire body ached from it, spreading from his ports outward. His automail didn't cope well with the cold.

He didn't mention that to Roy, though. He had a feeling the man already knew.

Killing the fire, Roy gathered up the skewers and steered Ed back to the car. "Best to sleep in there, I think. It's only going to get colder."

"Like the car'll help any," Ed muttered. He still climbed into the backseat, though, letting Roy crawl in with him, their bodies tangling in the limited space.

Ed was on his back, his knees crooked in an uncomfortable angle, spread to accommodate Roy's body. Roy had to bend his legs a bit to close the door. Neither of them would sleep well, not like that, so Ed reached up, carding his fingers through Roy's hair, the motion steady and gentle.

He could still smell the soap Roy had used in the last town. They'd broken into a house, thrilled to find the water working. Roy had pushed Ed playfully into the stall, and they'd had an interlude of levity, of something beautiful. That scent brought it all back.

"We should keep warm," Ed said pointedly.

Roy let out a laugh. "We should."

They both looked exhausted, bags distending their eyes, faces pallid. Roy already had a shadow of hair on his face. When he leaned down, his lips insistent against Ed's, Ed felt the scratchiness of it against his cheeks, his chin.

He could taste the rabbit meat in Roy's mouth, the smoky flavor.

Roy ran a hand under Ed's shirt, letting it rest on the smooth, flat plane of his stomach, creeping upward with every frantic mesh of lips and tongues. Up and up, until Ed's shirt was up around his armpits and Roy's hand was over his heart, feeling the steady, thumping beat beneath his skin. _This is it_, Ed wanted to say. _This is us. We're alive._

He could feel Roy harden against his thigh. Shifting, Ed tried to arch up, tried to grind their bodies together, but Roy pressed him back down, drew back, a smile, a true one, playing at his lips.

"Get it out," he said, and for a moment, Ed just stared, his thought process not running fast enough to catch the implication. Then:

"Oh."

Roy snorted.

Ed reached a hand down, fumbling with his zip, jerking his half-hard cock out, his knuckles brushing against Roy's as the other man frantically tried to do the same.

Once, they would have taken their time. They would have savored the moment, would have molded together in a harmonious roll of flesh on flesh. Now, it was frantic, a rapid, desperate grind of sweaty skin against sweaty skin. In the cramped backseat, they rutted against one another, the beauty of the act lost on them.

This was it. This was living.

When Ed came, Roy tumbling down after him. The last thing he saw before his eyes clamped shut against the waves of pleasure was the window beyond Roy's shoulder, steam creeping across it.

* * *

They set off as soon as the sun rose the next morning, leaving the car behind them. Roy shouldered the bag they'd been dragging with them. Ed wore his coat.

"North's suffered less," Roy said as they trudged along. "There might be people there."

Ed winced every time his automail foot hit the frozen ground, jarring his port. "People, huh."

"We might get lucky. I wouldn't be surprised if the Drachmans started hitting Briggs the moment they realized the soldiers were gone."

"You keep saying that like running into a bunch of Drachmans would be a _good_ thing," Ed said. "Not everyone's gonna want to see us."

"Dogs of the military," Roy muttered under his breath. They'd never escape that.

Not that the state alchemists even mattered anymore. Ed was pretty sure he and Roy were the last of them.

"Maybe we should—" Roy stopped before he could finish the thought, looking toward the sky. A shadow was spreading across the road and the land around them.

Ed felt a chill settle over him. Reluctantly, he turned his eyes heavenward.

Above them, in place of the sun, the eye of god was open.

Roy grabbed Ed's hand. He could feel Roy' pulse hammering away. "We should," Roy swallowed, "find cover."

Ed turned away from the sky. "Yeah. Let's go."

Finding cover, Ed thought as they stumbled off the road and into the endless Northern wilderness. What a joke.

There was nowhere to run when God was your enemy.


End file.
